Crossing the Line
by Weshallc
Summary: A wee break from the pub and some old skool Turnadette to fill the gap. This is for Wafer who has waited very patiently. So what did they do after the morning of the proposal...


She was determined not to reveal how breathless she actually was, she didn't want to spoil the boy's day. It had been his choice to come to Greenwich and he was excited to share everything he had learned in school with his recently restored friend.

She had watched him reach the summit of the hill in Greenwich Park. A good ten minutes before the stragglers of their small party of three would finally arrive. She had kept stopping on the steep incline to catch her breath. The boy's father had wanted her to turn back but she insisted she wanted to see the Old Royal Observatory close up. It was a warm day for late October and the recent mists that had hung over the last few days hadn't formed. She would have liked to admire the view and take in a large gulp of air, but the arm she had clung onto up the testing path ushered her to the nearest bench. The mild autumn weather had attracted a good Sunday crowd of tourists and Londoners alike. There wasn't really enough room for a fourth person on the bench, but he had insisted. She felt terribly embarrassed when the previous occupants an elderly couple, and what she presumed was their granddaughter, rose shortly after she was seated and politely reassured her they were fully rested and ready to move on.

A familiar excited voice broke through the crowds, "Aunty Shelagh, there you are, I want you to see this. Come on it's very important." He made a grab for her hand, but was intercepted quicker than a Bobby Moore tackle at Upton Park on a Saturday, by his dad.

"Timothy that is quite enough, we should never have followed you up here. This was a really terrible idea." Patrick's voice was tinged with panic and guilt.

"Nonsense," she responded so sharply that the two Turners who were about to do verbal battle had her full attention. She couldn't believe she had said it, almost shouted it. Since the telephone call from the sanatorium which was only a few days ago, but it seemed like a lifetime had past, everything had been so polite. Every word had been considered and so well thought out between them. Up until that moment.

She had never been afraid to speak her mind at the convent. She often had to keep the young nurses in-line, especially Nurse Franklin who when she saw a line couldn't help but flirt with the idea of crossing it.

She was more conscious of her manner with her sisters although Sister Monica Joan had been needing more direction of late. There were quite a few things she would have liked to have said to Sister Evangelina especially when she used to interrupt her teaching sessions, only in love of course. One person she had never dreamed of raising her voice to was Sister Julienne, the addition of her dearest friend and their too recent painful parting to her thoughts, chilled her for an instant.

He noticed the flicker of a shiver, she wasn't surprised he hadn't took his eyes off her for a fraction of a second all day. Before he produced a thermometer she thought she better continue. She was exhausted but her energy would certainly return with more haste than the boy's enthusiasm if dampened by the adults. She knew from experience that only children spend a large part of their time with people older than themselves, especially the motherless ones and it sometimes gets tiresome.

The urgency caught her off guard and it was said before she heard it herself.

"Doctor Turner, I do apologize for raising my voice in such a unseemly manner, but this is Timothy's day out and I for one think this is a most splendid location."

The shortness of breath must have caused a deficit of oxygen to her head she thought. Patrick, would she ever get used to his name, ten years was surely long enough to ingrain something in your brain and make it difficult to alter. She would never have dreamt of talking to him in such a way when he was just Dr Turner and also in front of his son, too.

The son was far too busy weighing up what had just occurred according to his ten-year-old reckoning. He came to the conclusion that when it came to differences of opinion with two people it's always one against the other. However, with three people it would now be two against one and maybe sometimes he would be on the side made up of two.

Patrick was staring at her with a look of bemusement. She wondered if anyone had ever contradicted him lately. She knew Sister Julienne had her own subtle ways of making her feelings known, if she felt some of the GP's new ideas made her feel uncomfortable. Sister Evangelina didn't stand on ceremony with anyone and was not afraid to tell Dr Turner when he had overstretched himself professionally, only in love of course.

But what about personally on private matters? Marianne had been gone nearly two years and had been very poorly before that. She had met Mrs Penny, the housekeeper, and didn't think she would be anything but courteous to the widower. Marianne's mother she had met at the funeral, but that would not be a good time to judge anyone's character. She recollected she had only seemed supportive of the two lost souls beside her and stoic in her own grief. Mrs Parker had not come across as opinionated or interfering.

Shelagh knew she could be brusk and she liked things done a certain way, her way. She had spent many hours on her knees at the convent asking for forgiveness and guidance concerning the virtues of obedience and humility. Even though in her final months of service other trials and temptations had become more pressing.

She had trained at the London and had been taught to treat the medical staff with the utmost respect, to never question and to speak only when spoken to, which wasn't very often. District practice was slightly different she had discovered. The more relaxed environment of the patient's home and the chaotic oversubscribed clinics held in church halls made everything a little less formal. It was rare in a hospital environment for just two people to work so closely together as often was the case in the community. Due to the differing levels of experience in matters of obstetrics, the midwives opinions were sought and valued more than their institutionalized colleagues. This was especially the case with newly qualified general practitioners, who may have the knowledge but not the experience.

Shelagh as Sister Bernadette had arrived at Nonnatus a newly qualified midwife only a couple of years after Dr Turner had took over the Kenilworth Row surgery. Both full of learning and eager to put it into practice, they had built their experience together. Dr Turner although not new to medicine was new to General Practice and maybe because he wasn't fresh faced and obviously not just out of medical school, he tended to throw new ideas or doubts at the young studious sister, rather than risk feeling judged under the gaze of her more established colleagues. The young nun was a little bit confused by this at first she had been taught to be seen and not heard during her training and recently had took a vow of of obedience. It took her awhile to realize he didn't just want her to nod at appropriate times. He wasn't being rhetorical at all, he was actually interested in what she thought.

She had never before considered how lonely a GP's life was, she had her sisters and the other midwives to discuss all manner of things with, well everything. There meal times were more than a welcome occasion to sustain the body, but the mind and soul too. They didn't just share their food but their knowledge, their concerns, their support. If Dr Turner needed to speak to another doctor he had to find one first. Another overworked GP in clinic or out on home visits. There was always the secondary tier, but she knew enough about medical politics that the consultants often looked down on the GP's for choosing a different career path. What was meant as a call for advice or reassurance could be seen as a referral and the patient completely taken out of his hands.

Once she realized this, Sister Bernadette saw it as a challenge, she got bolder in sharing her opinions. If she found her knowledge lacking she made damn sure she knew the answer if he ever asked that question again. She started to anticipate the kinds of cases he would want to discuss, if something unusual presented itself even at the early stages even as a possibility she was onto it. Almost willing him to ask her something in clinic. She started to feel betrayed if one of the other midwives found themselves assigned to a case she had spent so much time researching. She soon found she was quite adept at just inviting herself along or convincing the nurse that another pair of hands was needed, her hands. Soon it just became commonplace that she was given or asked to assist in the more complex cases. The cases that also required a doctor.

In all that time she had never raised her voice to him, in ten years of working closely together she had never obviously took the lead or contradicted him. He was fumbling in his pocket for something, _probably the receipt for the engagement ring_ she thought, she hoped for his sake he had only bought it recently and the 28 days weren't up. She sighed as he brought out his cigarettes and lighter.

She watched Timothy run around what was now the Old Greenwich Royal Observatory since it's recent relocation to Sussex. Made necessary due to light pollution Tim had informed them as they had crossed the Thames on the Woolwich Ferry, another treat. His mind greedily connecting the information he had read in books with what his alert and busy senses were now perceiving, forming a reality. Patrick had sat down beside her. He had said nothing following her outburst apart from warning Timothy not to go too far. It was Shelagh who broke the silence,

"I am sorry about the way I spoke to you. Just it's been such a remarkable day and Timothy has been through so much. I understood why you presented my ring to me like you did and that's why I wanted him to choose what we did this afternoon. Once I realized I had you both all to myself for the rest of the day. I can be rather bold at times, Mother Jesu Emanuel did mention it when I was a postulant. I am sorry if I overstepped the mark earlier."

"Dad, Aunty Shelagh, over here," came an earnest shout.

"I think we better go," Patrick stubbed out his cigarette and deftly threw it into the nearby bin. He stood up and offered his hand to his new fiance, "If you are sufficiently recovered?"

She took his hand and rose to her feet, "I am quite well, thank you," and then unable to bare it any longer, "Patrick please, I know I was over familiar."

He turned quickly towards her the mischief that flashed across his dark eyes and the smile that lit up his entire face reassured her slightly, "Oh, I hope you will be a lot more familiar than that."

It was Shelagh's turn to be lost for words, she felt herself blush, she had thought she had mastered that particular unconscious response after having so much practice over the last year, but he had took her totally off guard.

That line Trixie had sometimes flirted with Shelagh had embraced it completely, she had jumped over it with both feet and she had to admit, she had no idea what to expect now she was on the other side of it.

"This is it," Timothy proclaimed in triumph. Shelagh and Patrick stared down at their feet at a strip of brass. The young lad proudly continued, "This is the prime merib.."

Patrick went to correct him but the hand that had been hanging loosely in his own increased in tension, making him think again.

Timothy continued, "Prime Meridian, this is the beginning of all time."

Patrick opened his mouth to speak and Shelagh squeezed extra hard this time, the diamond not quite central on her finger making him flinch.

Shelagh raised her right hand and offered it to Timothy and fixed a look at Patrick that convinced him to do the same with his left. Timothy took hers tentatively, holding Shelagh's hand was one thing, she had been poorly, proper poorly, but holding his dad's hand that was a bit much, he was ten after all. Shelagh gave a small cough and instinctively the boys took hold.

"So if the three of us are standing on this line, if I understand you correctly Timothy we are at the start of everything."

"Yes," beamed Timothy, finally a grown-up who listened. "Not just that, it's more than that, this line separates the East from the West, it's the place that two worlds meet. Here there is neither east nor west, everything is just one, it's all equal, all together."

Patrick's voice sounded slightly out of key, Shelagh had noticed long ago when he became passionate about anything, his Merseyside roots became more obvious. This was one of those times.

"So I guess this is the perfect place for the three of us to make a start." he whispered

"Yes," said Timothy looking nervously at his dad. He had seen so many emotions flow through his father, since his mother had died and in the last few days since Sister had become Shelagh and this looked like another one.

"Can we let go now, people are staring." The adults started laughing which only drew more attention their way, but thankfully they did let go of his hands, if not each others he noticed. He wasted no time running off down the hill towards the National Maritime Museum.


End file.
